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Back The Double Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
  1. 1
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  10. 10
  11. 11
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  29. 29
  30. 30
  31. 31
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  33. 33
  34. 34
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  37. 37
  38. 38
  39. 39
  40. 40
  41. 41
  42. 42
  43. 43
  44. 44
  45. 45
  46. 46
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  48. 48
  49. 49
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  51. 51
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  63. Acknowledgements

Vidor snorted. ‘I was too shy to have a girlfriend. No social graces at all. I didn’t even kiss a girl until I got to Cambridge. And she was as shy as I was. Coke-bottle glasses, springy red hair. Valerie, her name was. One of only three girls in my advanced calculus class. And if you’re planning to ask me about my sexual life, let’s just say I’m a normal, red-blooded male. Everything in that department is perfectly functional.’

Gessen stood and poked the logs in the hearth, sending up a shower of sparks. When he returned to his chair, he opened a manila folder and extracted a glossy printout. ‘Do you recognise anyone in this photo?’

Vidor barely glanced at the sea of faces before handing it back. ‘No.’

‘Take your time,’ Gessen said, placing the photo on the table. ‘No one looks familiar?’ So, this was an ambush. The coffee and pastries, the chat by the fireside. A ruse to lull him into participating in his own demise. He pretended to scan the faces one row at a time. ‘I don’t recognise any of these people.’ Gessen didn’t blink. ‘Though it might help,’ Vidor said, ‘if you provided some context.’

‘It’s a photo of the first-year international students at the Sorbonne, taken in 1968.’

Vidor tossed the photo on the table. ‘I didn’t attend the Sorbonne.’

‘Duly noted.’ Gessen placed the photo back in the folder. ‘But did you ever attend any social events? Surely, you had friends who studied there?’

‘Student parties were not my thing.’

‘What about the boy in this picture, do you recognise him?’ Gessen passed him another photo, a grainy blow-up, the resolution poor. A vein pulsed in Vidor’s neck as he studied the blurred features of a boy with shaggy brown hair and sallow cheeks. Where was Gessen going with this line of questioning? What began as the gentle probing of past memories had turned into an interrogation.

‘I haven’t the slightest idea who this is.’

Gessen had moved to a writing desk a few paces away and was looking down at something. He glanced up at Vidor, then down again, squinting. Vidor craned his neck to see what was so fascinating. It appeared to be another photo of the shaggy-haired boy. He was desperate to get back to his room. It was too hot by the fire and perspiration broke out on his neck. He reached up absently and flicked his ear. When would Gessen announce he was free to go home?